“Who?” I ask confused.
“Oh, come on. You’re practically screwin’ him with your eyes.” I don’t bother to deny it. That’s exactly what I’m doing. “Go talk to him.”
I would love to go talk to him. And if I wasn’t utterly terrified, I might consider saying hello.
Marty rolls her big blue eyes. “She doesn’t have the guts to talk to him.”
“Hey! You two are the ones that wanted to come here. Y’all go talk to him.” Neither of my friends move. “That’s what I thought.”
We all laugh. I can’t blame my friends. The riders are an intimidating group. If the stories about Battle McCoy are true, he’d come for me if he wanted me.
“Ginger dared ya!” Marty reminds me. I consider punching her.
We’ve been daring each other since second grade. Not completing a dare usually results in something uncomfortable, like the time I made Ginger streak across the football field in her bra because she refused to tell Tate Price she liked him. She’s never forgotten it. I’m sure she has an evil plan in place if I don’t go talk to Battle.
“Okay. I’ll do it.” Although I try to stand with confidence, I look like a wet noodle and my insides vibrate with nerves.
“Right!” Marty laughs, fluttering her hand in the direction of the bar. “You’re gonna stroll over to him, hopin’ somewhere along the way you
find the courage to talk to him?”
I hoist my enormous bag in the air, reminding her of the liter-sized bottle of Jack Daniels I have stowed inside. “I have my courage right here.”
“That bottle ain’t nearly big enough,” Ginger pipes in. Her and Marty snort with laughter.
“Why am I friends with you two again?” I shoot them dirty looks. “Y’all dared me to talk to him, so…I’m gonna do it.”
I’ve never backed down on a dare, even in fifth grade when Marty made me eat a worm. I’m not going to start now.
“Look at you bein’ all brave,” Marty chuckles. “I bet you five bucks you don’t make it halfway before you run back to the table.”
“Oh, you’re on, princess,” I say, using the nickname she hates that Ginger and I gave her in fourth grade for being prissy. “And ten bucks says I’ll get him to talk to me.”
“I’ll take that bet and raise you,” Marty challenges.
“Raise me what?”
Her and Ginger exchange devious glances.
“If any guy’s worthy of poppin’ your one-night stand cherry, it’s Battle McCoy. I’ll bet a hundred bucks you won’t do it.”
My mouth falls open as I stare at her. “You want me to sleep with him, and you’ll give me a hundred bucks if I do? I’m not a hooker!”
“Okay, you don’t have to sleep with him, but a hundred bucks says you don’t leave the bar with him.”
“We’re talkin’ about Battle McCoy, right?” I ask, looking between her and Ginger, my gaze settling on Marty. “You’re willin’ to bet a hundred bucks with his reputation?”
“Noooo …” Marty shakes her head. “I’m willin’ to bet a hundred bucks you’re still wallowin’ in Wyatt, and despite what you say, you won’t be movin’ on.”
“Yeah, well you’re wrong,” I protest, but she’s not. I am wallowing.
Letting go hurts, like a small part of me left with Wyatt, and I’ll never get it back. With a snooty look over my shoulder, I walk away from my friends. Maybe I’m not ready to move on. So what? That won’t stop me from completing the dare and winning a hundred bucks in the process.
I approach the bar on wobbly legs. When I’m close, a few of the guys spin on their stools, facing me. JT Garrett, Cooper McGraw, Battle, and two guys I don’t recognize, but I’m sure they’re riders.
“Well, hello, darlin’,” Cooper drawls. His dusty blond bangs hang in his eyes. He smiles, his dimples full of warm invitation.
Between my nerves and the muggy air in the crowded bar, I feel a bead of sweat trickle down my spine. As I turn my head to look at Battle, the air immediately chills, covering my arms in goose bumps. There’s a solid wall of ice between us. He appears completely uninterested in my presence, an absolute one-eighty from the arena. Up close, he’s even more gorgeous and my knees nearly give out. His beautiful eyes are welcoming, but his demeanor screams, Back off!